by Di Morrissey
Abby grinned at her. ‘Just call me Speedy McBride.’
‘Yeah, you certainly are a speedy worker. I hear you’ve already snared Barney Holten for a date or two.’
Abby gasped. ‘What do you mean?’
‘It’s all over town that you had lunch together and he drove you home for starters,’ grinned Cheryl. ‘The rumours are flying thick and fast. I bet it’s put Shannon’s nose out of joint. Watch her, Abby, she’s always had first claim on him.’
Abby flushed and turned away. ‘You can’t beat a small town for gossip.’
Later, Abby drove home from hockey practice as the soft dusk turned the trees violet. She hated the idea of people in town gossiping about her, but she had lived in enough towns and outlying districts to know that small communities thrived on everyone else’s business. However, it presented an extra dimension to her problem. Being practical, she knew she shouldn’t see Barney again. Her head told her there was no future in it, that she was building Barney’s neighbourly interest into more than it really was. But then she remembered the look in his eyes, the tenderness of his smile and the warmth of his voice, and she tingled all over. She knew she couldn’t help herself — she had to see him again.
Then, as if she had wished him there, when she drove up to the gates of Anglesea Barney was sitting on the fence, his horse tethered to the gatepost. He waved, jumped down and opened the gate for her. She stopped Betsy, her heart leaping at the sight of him, and got out as Barney closed the gate behind her.
‘Thanks, Barney. You’re out for a late ride.’
‘Just heading back. I was hoping I’d catch you. I was wondering if your mum would like a fridge? Once I got into the shed for the typewriter I found an old Silent Knight kero fridge we had for the shearers for a time. It’s old, a few nicks in it, but it runs well. What do you think?’
‘Why didn’t you ask my mum?’ She gave him a smile.
‘Because I’d rather talk to you.’ He reached out and touched her hair.
‘I don’t know if I should be talking to you,’ she said quietly, suddenly serious.
‘Why?’
She took a deep breath. ‘I really like you. But I don’t want you to think I’m just some simple girl you can . . .’ Her bravado faltered and she stopped.
‘. . . fool around with?’ he finished for her.
She nodded and he tipped a finger under her chin and tilted her face to look up at him. ‘Abby, I won’t fool around. Or take advantage of you. You’re different . . . special. It doesn’t matter about anything else. So if we like each other, why don’t we just enjoy being together?’
‘Because it’s not that simple, Barney. If we were just fooling around it would be easier. But I like you . . . more than I should.’ She glanced down, thinking that the word ‘like’ inadequately expressed the tumbling, powerful feelings Barney aroused in her.
She took a breath and continued. ‘And let’s be honest, I come from a different world to you. There’s everything against us being more than casual friends — my family, my background, even my church.’ She blushed. ‘I know there’s nothing serious between us, but . . . I don’t want to get hurt,’ she finished in a whisper.
‘Oh Abby, I would never hurt you,’ breathed Barney. He too was shaken by the surge of emotion he felt for this sweet and simple girl. He was starting to feel that they were in a small boat that had pushed off from shore without sail, engine or oars, and that they were drifting towards rapids. He was powerless to stop their inevitable flight forward; and in his heart, as he stared into her blue eyes, he was prepared to go wherever this path took them. Suddenly he wanted to take Abby in his arms and kiss her wildly, but her reserve and hesitancy held him back.
‘And what about Shannon?’ asked Abby.
‘She’s a family friend. She’s always been there and maybe before she went away we all did just sort of think one day . . . Well, it seemed what our families wanted; it made sense that we might end up together. It’s sort of traditional, I suppose. But not now. Definitely not now,’ said Barney vehemently. ‘We’re different people.’
‘But won’t people talk?’ said Abby.
Barney sighed. ‘I wish people would mind their own business. Look, Abby, just let things be.’
Abby smiled. ‘What will be, will be, right?’ She spoke lightly, not wanting to make an issue of things. Instinctively she knew that to put any pressure on him or to expect anything more from him was inviting trouble. But an inner voice whispered, ‘Tread softly, Abby, you’re falling in love with this man and there can be no future for the likes of you and he.’
Barney gave her a grateful grin, feeling better for the openness of their discussion and surprised at its frankness. He was especially touched. ‘I suppose you always talk like this in your family, being so open and candid. I’m not used to it. But I’m glad we cleared the air.’
‘Come up to the house and talk to Mum about the fridge. She’d love it, I know. Stay for tea if you like.’
Barney rode behind Betsy as Abby headed for the cottage. He knew his dinner would be waiting in the formal dining room at Amba, but once he entered the warm, noisy and happy kitchen at the McBrides’, he readily accepted their invitation to stay for stew and dumplings. Gwen put an extra chair between Colleen and Shirley; Bob opened a bottle of beer; and suddenly everybody was talking and laughing at once, telling highly embellished stories about their day.
Bob McBride rapped a knife on his plate. ‘All right, settle down everyone. Abby, it’s your turn to say grace.’
Silence fell around the table as heads were bowed. ‘We thank thee Lord for all thy gifts, for our family, for our good friends, and our home, and for the food we are about to share. Dear Lord, we are truly grateful.’
Abby found she was stammering over words that usually fell so easily from her lips. She glanced across the table at Barney, who gave her a quick warm smile, their eyes connecting.
‘Amen,’ chorused the family, followed immediately by Kevin at the top of his voice: ‘Two, four, six, eight, bog in, don’t wait.’
The languid pallor of a small town Saturday afternoon hung over the sleepy town. There really is something special about Saturday afternoons in the country, thought Abby as she thrust shin pads inside her socks, then looked around the hockey field. The visiting team was already warming up, the sound of sticks thwacking against balls signalling the change of pace and mood. The morning shopping over, sport loomed as a popular communal way to relax until the town returned to work on Monday.
Abby studied the few small groups of spectators dotted around the field, but there was no sign of Barney. She was left with a hollow feeling which would have taken hold of her spirit had it not been for a rallying call from Cheryl that had the team trotting on to the field, passing the ball with practised ease as they took up positions for the start of the game.
Abby, on the right wing, was looking forward to the action. She felt a slight tensing and a tingle of excitement as she leaned forward on her stick, poised for a lightning reaction to the play. Within minutes she was totally immersed in the cut and thrust of the game; the fast-changing tactics, the aggression, the defence and every so often the breakaway on the wing that could give her the chance to put her team on the way to a goal. It wasn’t until half-time when they stopped for a drink and sliced oranges that she suddenly saw Barney. Her heart leapt. He was standing beside Gwen and Bob who had spread a blanket in the shade of a tree.
Her delight suddenly turned to nervousness and she looked quickly around. This was madness on his part, thought Abby wildly. Joining her family to watch the game and cheer her on was making a very firm announcement of his interest in her. However, overwhelming her initial shock was a sensation of delight. Their eyes met and he gave Abby a big grin as she made her way over to him.
‘So you did come then. Nice to know a man who keeps his promise to a girl.’
Barney continued her mock seriousness. ‘Wouldn’t have missed your first match for the worl
d. Besides, I’m famous throughout New England for keeping promises — ask any girl.’ They both laughed.
‘Seen much of the game?’ asked Abby, finishing her orange and accepting his handkerchief to wipe her hands.
‘Missed the start, but I think I’ve seen the best of the action so far. You can run like a rabbit when you have to,’ said Barney with genuine enthusiasm.
‘Not to much effect so far,’ said Abby lightly. ‘We’re down one-nil.’ There was a sharp blast on the referee’s whistle and Abby turned and looked at the teams running back on to the field. ‘That’s the call to battle.’ She turned back to Barney briefly. ‘Staying to the bitter end?’
‘Wouldn’t miss it for quids.’
The second half was hard fought and Abby found that the brief training had not prepared her adequately for the long tiring grind. More running around the paddocks in the evening is needed, she told herself midway through the half as she leaned on her stick, panting heavily.
Suddenly her front row was moving forward again; the ball was flicked out to her and, as she got into a rhythmic stride, she heard a shout from the sideline, ‘Go, Rabbit, go!’
Abby would have grinned had it not been for a clash with a defender that required some deft stick and footwork. Quickly she was safely past the defence and snatching looks in-field at her supporting players as the opposition goal came within striking distance.
She heard a distant shout. ‘Centre it, Rabbit!’ And she did, right to where Cheryl was waiting in anticipation and then it was one goal all. As Cheryl and Abby ran back, arms around each other’s shoulders, Abby caught sight of Barney, his hands clasped over his head in a victory salute, her mother clapping, Bob giving the thumbs-up and the youngsters jumping up and down. She waved her stick in acknowledgement.
The game finished with the score unchanged. Abby dragged herself off the field exhausted, and joined Barney and her family. Colleen and Shirley dashed on to the field to hug Abby.
Kevin handed her a peeled orange. ‘It was a pretty good match . . . for a girls’ game,’ he conceded.
‘Well done, lass,’ said her father admiringly. ‘Still got the touch.’
‘Here, have a towel,’ fussed Gwen. ‘You’re wringing wet.’
Abby wiped her face slowly and emerged from behind the towel to once again catch Barney’s eye. She grinned. ‘Thanks for the encouragement, but I’m not sure that I want to be known as Rabbit.’
‘Let’s talk about it over afternoon tea. I’ve cleared it with your mum and dad, you’re excused from the delights of afternoon tea with Mrs Doherty.’
Abby once again felt her stomach somersaulting and her knees wobbling, not from physical tiredness but the anticipation of being with Barney.
‘Well, in that case, I won’t take long.’ She ran off still feeling shaky with excitement.
The rest of the girls were meeting friends at the Athena Cafe and she certainly didn’t want to go there. There’d be enough speculation over Barney joining her family to watch the match. While Shannon hadn’t been there Abby had no doubt she’d hear quickly enough.
Barney drove to the river through the Saturday afternoon empty town. The puntman was sitting in the sun with his feet up on a wooden pylon, slowly reeling in a fishing line. He and Barney were friends and they exchanged light-hearted greetings.
‘The dinghy is over there . . . help yourself.’ He eyed Abby then winked at Barney. ‘Don’t do anything to rock the boat, Barney.’
Barney let the remark go without a response. He took a large paper bag and Thermos flask from the car and helped Abby into the dinghy. She sat gingerly on the seat at the stern. Barney pushed off from the bank, set the oars, and began rowing downstream.
‘What a great idea, where are we going?’ she asked happily.
‘Anywhere . . . Keep a lookout for somewhere nice to go ashore for our picnic’
‘Aye, aye, captain. Say, I know what my dad would be singing now,’ grinned Abby.
‘I know, I know. Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream,’ sang Barney as Abby joined in. ‘Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream.’
‘Very good, Barney. We’ll make an honorary McBride of you yet.’
Abby spotted the delicate mauve clusters of a jacaranda near an open stretch of bank and Barney steered in, leapt ashore and tied up the little boat.
They sat down and tucked into Mrs Anderson’s cheese and cucumber sandwiches, Thermos of tea and fruitcake. They laughed and talked about Anglesea and Amba, the other places they’d lived.
Listening to Barney talk, Abby thought how clever and thoughtful he was. Many of the young men she’d met about town and talked to briefly, seemed empty in comparison. They were interested in beer, sport, having a few laughs at each other’s expense, and making a decent quid out of the land. Honest, cheerful, down to earth, unromantic, Abby secretly thought of some of them as being a bit like the cattle they cared for — practical, useful and dull. How different Barney was. He made her laugh at nothing and feel warm and happy. He was caring and sweet, yet she detected a sadness in him, a sadness she couldn’t explain. To anyone else he would seem to be a young man who had it all, but Abby suspected there was something missing in his life, some sense of loss that maybe he didn’t understand either. Perhaps it came from being an only child. When she was little, when the McBride household, with its noise and clutter, seemed to leave no silent space just for her, Abby had sometimes wished she was an only child. Most of the time, however, she adored the love and support of her close-knit family.
Abby stretched out on the grass and looked at the sky through the trembling frail leaves of the delicate jacaranda. She wished she could paint and capture the pattern and shape of the leaves glazed with sunlight, silhouetted against the blue sky and drift of cloud.
Barney’s shadow fell across her. He held out his hand and pulled her to her feet. Their lips met in a warm soft kiss and Barney kissed the tip of her nose as they looked into each other’s eyes. ‘I like being with you,’ he said softly.
It was a light remark that barely cloaked the deep and disturbing feelings that threatened to overwhelm him. He took refuge in Australian understatement.
Abby recognised this and being a little unnerved by her own feelings and recognising they stood at the edge of some sort of precipice, she answered simply, ‘Me too.’
They walked a little way, holding hands, looking at the sun reflected on the river where an occasional perch sent a bubble to the surface. It was comfortable being together, neither felt the need to make conversation; instead they just enjoyed the shared companionship. Abby felt as if she had known him all her life, there just seemed an inevitability, a special closeness between them, which she couldn’t imagine experiencing with anyone else.
They rowed back to the punt where the puntman nodded to them, concentrating on the slight curve at the tip of his rod.
Barney and Abby drove back to town, and then wandered past the closed shops, the movie cinema where the final moments of the weekly serial’s cliffhanger could be heard through the open doors, and past the blacksmith’s forge, which was closed and silent. Leaving the Saturday afternoon stillness of the main street, they made their way along the rows of neat houses where hydrangeas flourished, sweet peas climbed over front fences, and short cement paths led to welcoming front doors. Occasionally they passed a man who raised his hat or a woman who smiled and nodded with obvious interest in the pair.
Barney and Abby waited by the park, holding hands as Betsy, laden with the McBrides, rolled to a stop before them.
‘Had a good afternoon?’ called Bob.
‘Yes, we did,’ Abby smiled shyly up at Barney and he kissed her lightly on the lips, then opened the rear door for Abby.
‘Move over, kids. Thanks for a lovely time, Barney.’
‘It’s been a great day. See you soon.’ He gave a wave as they pulled away.
Bob and Gwen exchanged a glance but Gwen gave Bob a look that stopped him makin
g any comment about the tender scene they’d just observed.
Bob glanced at Abby’s flushed and happy face in the rearview mirror and started to sing, ‘If you were the only girl in the world and I were the only boy . . .’
BOB MCBRIDE LOVED THE END OF THE DAY BEST of all. With the day’s hard work behind him, he could relax, replete after one of Gwen’s hearty meals, his family around him.
The twin girls, smelling of Johnson’s baby powder, wrapped in their dressing gowns, came into the little lounge room to kiss him goodnight.
‘Who won the Monopoly game?’
‘Kevin of course.’
‘I think he cheats.’
‘I never did!’ Kevin grinned at his father and flopped on to the sofa beside his mother.
‘Watcha knitting, Mum?’
‘A vest for Brian. Goodness, he’s turning into a beanpole. Have you finished your homework?’
‘Not quite. The girls wanted a game. They know I always win and they always whinge.’
Abby looked up from the Daily Telegraph she brought home every night. ‘How come you always win?’
‘They’re too scared to spend their money. I buy up everything I can.’
‘I hope you won’t be so free and easy with real money,’ said Gwen.
‘You don’t need money, you buy on the HP nowadays,’ replied Kevin cockily.
‘Not this family,’ retorted his father. ‘If you haven’t got the money in your pocket, you can’t buy it.’
Abby didn’t mention the dress she had put away on layby at McKenzies.
‘Off you go to that homework, young man. Then you can listen to “The Amateur Hour”,’ said Bob, and Kevin headed back to the kitchen table, the workplace for all family projects.
Bob turned on the wireless and the family went quiet. Silence always reigned during the evening ABC news, just as it did at one o’clock each afternoon for Gwen’s favourite serial, ‘Blue Hills’.
Abby folded up the newspaper and stretched. ‘Why do those announcers sound so plummy? Why can’t they talk like the rest of us?’ she wondered aloud.